First Things First
by shalu
Summary: Alice Cullen turns seventeen today. She wants nothing more than to give her virginity to Jasper Whitlock. Will it be the fantasy she imagined? Or will she be humiliated? AH
1. First Things First

This idea popped up out of nowhere a week or two ago, and would not leave me alone. I thought it'd just be a one-shot, but I got this far and it wasn't done. So, it'll be a two-shot instead. Enjoy!

* * *

**Alice**

"I'm giving my virginity to Jasper Whitlock tonight," I announce to my best friend Bella. It's the weekend after graduation—well, not mine, but Jasper's. He's throwing a huge party at his house tonight. It's the perfect opportunity. It's also my seventeenth birthday.

She stares at me with that look that says she thinks I'm fucking with her, which is insulting. "Fabulous," she deadpans. "Does _he_ know this or are you going to just pop out of a cake?"

I respond with a glare. I'm completely serious about this decision and I resent her mocking me.

"I'll rephrase," she says, smirking. "Does he know who you are?"

I stomp my foot. (Seriously.) "Really, Bella? Of _course_ he does! His older sister Rosalie used to babysit me," I say, as if this explains everything with perfect clarity. I immediately realize how stupid this sounds. I mean, I _was_ only eight or nine at the time.

She eyes me, her expression of disbelief blatant. "Well, there's an 'in' if I ever heard one," she laughs. A goofy look glazes her face as she pitches her voice high and idiotic. "'Hi, Jasper. Remember when Rosalie babysat me, like _eight_ years ago? Yeah, I thought you might. Our connection was _incredible_!'"

I punch her in the arm, glowering. She rubs at the spot. I may be small, but I pack one hell of a punch. "It's not like I'm invisible at school, ya know," I hiss, feeling a little hurt. "I _have_ talked to him. Sort of. And he's kinda friends with my brother."

Her expression becomes guilty. "I know that," she assures me. "It's just that this is a serious thing to decide, and you don't exactly run in the same circles."

I ignore this. Nothing will derail my plans. "You're coming with me, right?"

She stares, wide-eyed, subconsciously grabbing a long chestnut lock of hair and chewing on it.

"Oh, come ON!" I groan, pulling her hair away from her teeth. "Tons of people will be there; it's not like we need a personal invite. Plus, it IS my _birthday_."

"Alice," she hedges. "I just ... I'm never terribly comfortable at those kinds of parties."

I know she's thinking of homecoming when Mike Newton cornered her, stuck his tongue in her mouth, and aggressively tried to cop a feel. I noticed immediately and grabbed Emmett McCarty, who'd been standing next to me. God love Emmett, he marched right over to them and pulled Mike away by the hair. If I recall correctly, Mike peed his pants before Emmett even got a word out. It was fantastic.

I try to be patient, considering my friend's feelings and limitations. The truth is, however, that I am _not_ a patient girl, and blurt out the bait I know will hook her. "My brother'll be there," I say, immediately feeling a little guilty. Regardless, these two need to quit stalling. "It's _his_ birthday, too."

I see her cheek twitch and her lips tighten into a stiff line. "So?"

"Bella." I raise my eyebrow at her. "You think I don't know how in love with Edward you are? You try to hide it, but it's blatantly obvious to me."

Her eyes widen in shock. "Do you think _he_ knows?" She sounds horrified.

I laugh, thinking about his "casual glances" in her direction when she's around. Not to mention something I overheard as I passed by his room late one night. _Shudder_. "Doubt it. The twin is a little, uh, dense when it comes to picking up such clues."

"And you haven't told him?" _She is definitely paranoid._

I crack, unable to maintain this line of conversation when it impedes my forward progress. "You can call me a bitch later, but it is _my_ birthday and we're discussing _my_ soon-to-be perfect happiness."

"Yeah, about that," she starts, but pauses to chew on her lip. "Are you sure? I mean, don't you want it to be with someone you—"

"I couldn't be more sure of Jasper," I cut her off, refusing to let her shoot holes in my logic.

She looks at me, blinking those big doe eyes that Edward writes pages about in the journal he thinks is well-hidden. _He should know better than to TRY to keep secrets from his twin_. She shakes her head and smiles, resigning to support me.

I steer the conversation back to her attending the party with me, and she finally agrees to go, on the condition that I not tell Edward anything about _blah blah "BELLA LOVES YOU" blah_. Happily, I accept her affirmative as I go barrelling into my walk-in closet to pick the perfect outfit. It's a special, once-in-a-lifetime night, and though Bella and I are the only ones aware of that (so far), I need to dress the part.

It takes an hour to be sure of my choice, but after careful consideration, I emerge from my closet confidently. The canary yellow, strapless bandeau dress is casual enough and really comfortable. Plus, bare shoulders? _Score_. I add a skinny red scarf and red platform wedges. Bella's eyes go wide and she nods enthusiastically.

"Not too much?" I ask, just double-checking.

"No, not at all," she assures me. "You look hot. I'd do ya."

I snort. "Thanks, baby," I tease, "but you're not my type."

**OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO**

Walking into the party, I am amped up from a pep-talk I gave myself just before I left. I smooth out my dress, even though it's unnecessary. I'm glad for the extra height the shoes give me, as Lauren Mallory likes to look down her nosejob at me constantly, and I know she'll be here. The bitch has it bad for Jasper, but he isn't the least bit interested in her. At least, I hope not.

I notice Jasper immediately. His tall, lanky form is leaning over the breakfast bar—currently, the "bar" part is more accurate than usual. He's got a button-down grey and blue plaid shirt on, really worn jeans, and his usual shitkickers. I half expected him to have a cowboy hat on, but he's wearing a ridiculous, cheap sombrero instead. Laughing, he says something with a crap Spanish accent about "de muy bueno dreenk of de day" and picks up a bottle of tequila. Smoothly pouring three shots, he clinks glasses with Emmett and Peter, and tosses his back. Eyes closed, he hums as it burns a trail down his throat. _The man just fucking hummed. After tequila. I wonder if he hums like that when he's—._

"ALICE." Bella's whisper was loud—necessarily so, thanks to the music.

I spun to face her, raising my eyebrows in question.

"Is Edward here?"

I want to roll my eyes, because I'm on a mission. However, Bella had given herself a bit of a mission (_I'm so proud!_): to talk to Edward. Well, it's a start, no? I can't criticize, as my conversations with Jasper to this point have been largely circumstantial and during school hours. I had always hoped he'd be the aggressor.

But Bella was right: I _didn't_ run in the same circles as he did. During the school year, I was down in the art wing most of the time, up to my elbows in developer or paint or clay. He played soccer and ran track, which was how he and Edward became friends. Jasper is incredibly popular, and for all the right reasons: he's not only gorgeous, but also a really good guy. You would never find him throwing someone in a dumpster, or shoving an underclassman in a locker. I _may_ or may not still fantasize about my freshman year when Marcus Aronovich (who was a two-time junior) shoved me down, spilling the contents of my bag all over the hallway. Jasper saw and helped me put everything back in the bag, not even flinching or commenting when he picked up the tampon that was of course included in the mass of stuff I had crammed in it. On the bus home that day, Jessica Stanley told me that during lunch, Jasper had purposefully tripped Marcus as he left the lunch line. He landed face-first in his pizza.

"Hello? Alice?" Bella starts waving her hand in front of my face. "Are you okay? You know you can change your mind, right? I have passes to the movies if you want to do that instead."

I cock my head to one side, slowly processing what she said. "Huh? NO! I, uh, just got lost in thought," I tell her, hoping I wasn't too loud. I looked around quickly, but luckily there is enough chatter and music that my "NO!" went unnoticed. I reconnected to the conversation and finally responded to her previous question. "Edward said he'd be here, but I'm not sure if he's here _yet_. Don't worry so much! Let's have a drink and relax."

Nudging her toward the bar—_and Jasper_—I ask her what she might want. She stalls, insisting she really doesn't want to drink at all, as with her luck, her dad Charlie will probably ask her to do a breathalyzer when she gets home. I remind her that _one drink_ early in the evening is harmless, but she insists she'll hold off since she's driving and have a Dr. Pepper or something.

I sidle up and stand near the middle, right next to Jasper, whose back is to me at the moment. The desire to rub up against him like a cat and start purring is strong, but I resist (barely). Instead, I feign indifference and purse my lips as I check out the collection of booze. To be honest, it's a little intimidating, but I pretend like it's all old hat as I cast a wandering glance across the countertop. I can only think of three actual mixed drinks, but have no idea how to make them. Any drinks I've had up until now were either a glass of wine or mixed by someone else, so I would either make it way too strong, or use the wrong mixer.

As if sensing someone behind him, Jasper turns away from his conversation with Peter and faces me. I do my best to ignore his mildly lingering head-to-toe sweep of me with his eyes, but internally, I'm squealing and fist-pumping like a madwoman.

"Alice Cullen," he drawls, a wicked smile licking his lips like flame. _God, I love his smile. It practically takes over his body in the way it radiates his joy. Plus, he has the most perfect, beautiful teeth. Yes, I said teeth. _Tequila has enhanced the Texas roots that sometimes highlights his voice, and I have the urge to sigh. He continues before I can. "Where's your pain-in-the-ass twin?"

The excitement that had begun to curl across my face crumbles a bit when it dawns on me he's just looking for Edward. Edward's bizarrely oblivious to the attention he gets, but I swear, sometimes it feels like I'm just Edward Cullen's twin sister. Not Alice. I bite back the taste of bitterness and answer, "He's around here somewhere, I'm sure." Unfortunately, I hear the disappointment in my voice.

"He didn't drive you?"

"Nope! Bella drove," I explain simply, throwing a gesture over my shoulder at her.

He nods. "Hey, Bella," he greets her, throwing out a casual wink.

Uncharacteristic jealousy swarms me as I unnecessarily try to overanalyze the wink, my teeth grinding just a little. I'm feeling a little bit psychotic and amped up, but thankfully, his next words flip me on my head.

"So, Miss Alice Cullen, it would appear you're looking for a beverage," he says theatrically, picking the sombrero off his head and holding it flat against his chest. "Might I assist you in your endeavor?"

I giggle at the joking formality he uses, punctuating it with a snort. He chuckles, smiling wide.

"Why, yes, kind sir," I play along happily, my previous distress forgotten. "I am ever so parched and don't know _what_ to do!" I fan myself for extra effect.

He nods, tossing the hat like a frisbee across the room and starts grabbing at bottles, quickly throwing some concoction together. I see him pour some tequila, but I'm not sure what else. "Try this," he says finally, handing me the cup.

Eyeballing the drink for a second, I blink and look up into his eyes, nearly losing my ability to speak. They're so deep and blue, I want to dive in. He's smiling and relaxed, though not drunk, as far as I can tell. His expression falters a bit as I realize I'm staring too long. I manage to croak, "Um ... what is it?"

He's back with a smirk. "It's called a Cowgirl's Prayer."

Heat crawls up my neck and I blush slightly. Sipping the drink, I taste lemonade with a kick. It's actually really good. I hum in appreciation, savoring the tart and the warm sting of the liquor. Looking up, I see his eyes widen just a little, the smirk slipping. Before I can thank him, however, Eric Yorkie hollers something ridiculous (as well as incoherent) at him from across the room, and he takes off toward him, grumbling.

I'm a little disappointed I couldn't hold on to his attention a little longer, but I try to remind myself I have all night. Or at least until Bella's curfew. My parents think I'm staying at Bella's, but if all goes according to plan, I'll be staying here. It's at this point when I suddenly remember I have no actual plan. I panic a little and gulp down a few huge sips of the drink.

"Slow down, Ali," Bella hisses. "You can't be wasted walking into my house. Charlie will kick _both_ our asses, even if I'm totally sober!"

I spin on her. "I won't be walking into your house at all, Bella," I remind her, trying to sound as confident as possible. Truth is, I'm wavering in that department. "This is _my_ night."

I ignore her eye roll and move to sit on the couch. She spots Angela Weber and her boyfriend Ben, and heads over to talk to them. A wave of guilt washes over me; I'm sure I've been a little bit of a pain in the ass today

I people watch for a little while, enjoying my drink as I feel all my muscles start to relax. This effect is somewhat ruined because Lauren picks that moment to plop her Amazonian ass next to me.

"Wow, Alice, cute dress. Did Gymboree have a sale?" She snarks before taking a sip of her drink.

I roll my eyes, not in the mood to deal with her crap. So I go straight for the jugular. "Your ass is fat," I mutter.

She chokes on her drink, giving me a good laugh. She gets up and huffs, stomping away. I feel pretty successful until I see her out to the patio a little while later, pouting and rubbing her water-bra'ed cleavage on Jasper's arm. He isn't pushing her away, which makes me a little sick to my stomach, especially when I see her move in to whisper something in his ear. She gestures to me and then to her ass, undoubtedly whining about my comment and fishing for compliments. He looks up suddenly, catching my eyes. I want to look away immediately, but his mouth curves into a smirk. He winks.

_Did you catch that? He fucking winked at ME._

I try to act all laid back, but fail miserably when I grin unabashedly. His smirk turns into a megawatt smile, but Lauren bumps him with her boobs again, distracting him momentarily. Edward walks up out of nowhere. They do that stupid dude-hug with handshake and a backslap, and Lauren and her boobs are forced to clear the area. _Thank you, Edward._

He and Jasper get into a conversation, and soon enough, I pry my attention away, even though I caught him glance my way a few times as he spoke. Abandoning my spot on the couch in the front room, I weave amidst the crowd. The party's in full-swing, so it's fairly packed, but not so much that I can't move through easily enough.

Occasionally listening in on conversations and pickup attempts, I count at least two separate girls—other than Lauren—openly lusting after Jasper. One was Bree Tanner, a freshman. She's usually fairly quiet, though she must have sneaked out to come to this party. Still, I have no worries about her as competition. The other, however, was Maria Delgado. Bitch has claws. Jasper dated her before; in fact, she might have been his _first_. Don't ask me how I know this stuff. It's not like I want to think about it. They broke up last year before the summer, and if her comments were any indication, he initiated it. That said, they must have remained somewhat friendly, for her to be here. Unless she showed up uninvited.

Then again, I wasn't exactly invited, either.

I do my best to push both that thought and Maria out of my mind as I drift into the huge family room. Must be half past drunk-o'clock, because Tyler Crowley is doing some serious damage on the "dancefloor." And I don't mean that in a good way. Several people, also dancing, crane their necks to watch him, rapt with fascination and amusement. However, I notice Jessica watching with disgust. I catch her eye, and we share a laugh.

I watch the smattering of couples and singles dancing, nodding lazily to the music. A good fifteen minutes later, the song changes to one of my favorites. I'm taken a little off guard, for some reason. It's one of the sexiest songs I've ever heard, and I cannot stop my body from reacting. My hips dip and sway as my eyes close, the music running over my skin. Pulse and sweep and I'm lost to it, the sounds insulating me from everything and everyone around. Deep notes resonate in my stomach and lower, fluttering with a sensuality that's new to me.

My imagination spins, imagining Jasper dancing with me, every move communicating a longing that matches my own. Arms circle my waist, pulling me against him, holding me to his chest. I lean my head back into his shoulder as the music intensifies, the beat kicking in. Hips circle together in their own conversation, and my breathing accelerates. Hands roam my body slowly, igniting my skin with want. Lips touch my neck trailing up to my ear, where he takes the lobe in his teeth and sucks very gently before releasing it and whispering in my ear.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

_Wait. What?_

The fog of fantasy I'd surrounded myself with dissipates and I feel the very real, very strong arms around me. I freeze.

"Huh?" _Jesus H. Christ! That's your response?_

He chuckles, turning me around in his arms. The song is ending, but my night is apparently just beginning. Jasper's eyes are sparkling as he smiles at me. "Hi, there."

"I ... I didn't realize ..." I stammer, stopping myself before I admit that I was fantasizing about him. _Hold the phone. If I tell him that, it might help my cause, no?_

I look up at him through my lashes. We lock eyes, and I wouldn't look away for anything in the world. "I thought I was only imagining you with me."

He gulps, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. I smile. "You were imagining ... me?" He seems surprised.

I nod, keeping eye contact, but he looks down. A thrill shoots from my fingertips through the rest of my body when he takes one of my hands in both of his, lightly running his fingers over my palm. My breath catches, and he notices, snapping his attention back to my face.

I want to kiss him. I _really_ want to kiss him. We're staring at each other, and I am desperate to break the stalemate, so I reach up with my free hand and slip it around the back of his neck. I'm really thankful for the wedges, because they bring me to a perfect height for this. I tip my chin up and lean my body toward him. He senses my intentions and quickly lowers his head.

The moment our lips meet, I'm in heaven. Our mouths move slowly at first, parting slightly to taste one another. The tip of his tongue licks my upper lip and my knees buckle. I wrap my arms around his waist to steady myself as he does the same, pulling me against him. He bends his legs and lifts me; my feet dangle and my shoes fall off. Our faces are level, so he tilts his head to deepen the kiss. I never want it to end. I do, however, want more—so much more, but we're in the middle of a party and I know people are probably watching us. This is where I have to dig deep and find some balls to ask for what I want, because I have a feeling he won't be the one to suggest it.

Regrettably, I have to tear myself away to do so. I press my cheek against his, my lips right at his ear. "Take me upstairs."

I brace for rejection—why, I don't know, but I do—but his hands tighten at my back, and I swear I hear a growl.

"Jesus," he says, his voice gravelly. "You _are_ trying to kill me, aren't you?"

I giggle and he loosens his grip. I slide down along his body and my bare toes curl around the long fibers of carpet. All I can focus on is the feel of his fingers surrounding mine as he tugs my arm. I follow easily up the stairs, but we only get a few steps up before he stops, turning and picking me up impatiently. It feels natural and comfortable as my legs seem to wrap around him like it's an old habit, as though they know something I don't. My back hits the wall with a soft thud, my hips encased in his strong hands as he kisses me again. Every kiss is better than the last, his breath picking up, his hums vibrating my lips with promises of more.

He kisses down my neck until he reaches my scarf, which gets in his way, so he reaches up with one hand to snatch it off, pushing his hips into me to pin me to the wall. I can feel him, hardening against me. I shiver, and I'm not sure whether it's a nervous or excited shiver. I choose to think the latter.

My ankles cross behind his back, pushing _me_ against his button-fly even more. His lips leave me as he sucks in a breath before rushing to carry me the rest of the way up the stairs. He makes it to his room in four long strides, slamming the door with his foot. A few more steps and he sets me on my back, crawling over me with a hungry, predatory look on his face.

I lift my head and kiss him. This time, I'm not timid about initiating it. In fact, I've a surge of confidence and twist my fingers into his curls, tugging lightly. His denim-clad erection pushes against me. His eager response is such an ego boost, I smile against his lips and gasp. My mind circles as we kiss: _I love you, I love you, I love you..._

Releasing his hair, I feel my way along his back, trying to memorize the planes of his body, before deciding I need to feel skin. I ghost my palms around his ribs, stopping to feel his heartbeat. My eyes are drawn there as I press my hand to his chest. He's panting, and I realize I've stalled. I look up to kiss him as my fingers find the buttons. Working shakily to remove his shirt, he grins into the kiss.

It might be nothing short of a miracle that my unsteady hands manage to get his shirt open. Before I could push it off his shoulders, he rocks back onto his knees and rips the shirt off his arms. His eyes are dark, gleaming with lust, and fixed on me. Something inside takes over and I sit up fast, taking his belt in my hands. Part of me feels like I'm watching this happen, but at the same time, every sense is on overload.

The worn, soft leather slides through my hands. The buckle clinks against the copper button on his jeans, echoing through my ears. The faded spice of his scent fills my nose, mixed with a faint note of tequila and lemon that rests on the back of my tongue. Locking eyes again, I get the buckle undone and pull the belt from the loops, tossing it away from us.

My hands freeze as the first button on his jeans is undone beneath my fingertips. This is as far as I've ever gone with anyone and it doesn't escape my notice. _Okay, I've never undressed anyone at all, let alone gotten all the way to the pants-off part._

Luckily, he holds my face and kisses me again. I can later admit to myself that I was happy that it stalls us for a moment, and that it doesn't seem like he noticed my hesitancy. My hands grip his sides as his caress their way down my neck and over my shoulders. I whimper as I feel his fingers trace the top of my dress before he dips them behind the top hem.

"This okay?" He asks, and I melt. He's asking my permission even though I nearly just had my hands in his pants. I sigh, nodding vigorously. He chuckles lowly, dragging the fabric down to expose my breasts. They're nothing significant, but at least they're perky. "Mmmm."

I laugh out loud at his apparent approval, encouraged and emboldened. I push my chest out, seeking the attention he's more than ready to give. Between his hands and his mouth, I'm not sure which feels better. His tongue swirls around one nipple, his palm gently rubbing the other. "Ohhh... oh, my God..."

I decide quickly that the dress has got to go and push it further down my waist. He lifts himself up to help me get the dress down and over my legs, discarding it for me. Crawling back up and over me, his body presses down, pinning me. He warms me, the cool of the air-conditioned room having chilled my skin in his brief absence, but he also calms me. There's a comfort there that I have never felt before, a security that soothes the most sharpened nerves. That's not to say my breathing is slow, or even. It's not.

His lips attach to my neck as I feel a hand working its way between us. I gasp as I feel his hand breach the top of my red hipster briefs. Fingertips stop, delicately resting just before they reach hair. I'm about to wonder whether I should have tried getting a wax, but he's checking with me again.

"I can stop, Alice," he says, his voice quiet, but strained.

"No," I manage, barely. "Please, don't stop."

He continues his exploration, his long fingers finally touch me as his mouth finds mine. I'm not even sure what he's doing, but I'm amazed at how good it feels. He presses and slides, circles and pinches, always gently and enough to make me want more. "Don't... stop... God, please don't stop."

When I say this, he groans, and a finger slips inside. I tense slightly out of surprise, the feeling so new and yet, wonderful. I gasp aloud when he adds a second. He works me like a musical instrument, a different sound emitted for each movement, each press, each twirl. Sparks seem to spread from where his fingers move, heating my body from the inside to the outermost layer of my skin. Every muscle goes rigid as the most incredible feeling crashes over me, an ecstasy previously foreign to me. The sound of my orgasm feels odd to my ears, but it must be exactly what he wants to hear, because I finally notice him chanting "That's it, beautiful ... yes..."

Coming down slowly, he lips kiss their way back to mine, and my response is forceful as I kiss him hard. I suck on his lips like nothing has ever tasted better. Murmuring through kisses, I grab his face with my hands. "Want you... I want..."

I almost don't notice when he lifts my hips to tug at my underwear. My stomach tightens and I realize zero hour is really here. This is actually happening. I lift my hips up and my panties seem to disappear as our kiss slows. Pushing up, he leans over toward the nightstand and opens a drawer. I turn my head back so that I'm staring at his ceiling, incredibly glad there's not some Playboy poster up there. In fact, I look around and see for the first time that the majority of what he decorates his room with is maps, interspersed with a few band posters.

I hear the sound of a condom wrapper ripping and have to stop myself from startling. I don't know why that sound made me nervous; I'm more than positive I want this. I've been in love with Jasper Whitlock since I could understand the concept of love. I don't have time to analyze much, though, as Jasper's lips cover mine, sucking any clear thought right out of my head.

I'm both proud and mortified by the ridiculously would-have-been-really-loud moan that erupts, half swallowed by his kiss. I realize suddenly that the sexual being I saw in myself was fantasy, and in reality, I haven't the same confidence. Nerves skitter about under my skin, but his hands smooth over my bare sides and hips, making me forget myself all over again.

A hand travels over my ass, sliding along the back of my left thigh. Tingles light up a trail wherever he touches me, and despite the feelings I've harbored for him, I am amazed. I feel his grip shift behind my knee, gently moving my leg wider until he can settle his hips against mine. I feel him sliding against me, pressure exactly where it needs to be. At least I think so, because it feels really good. Weird, but awesome.

"God, Alice," he breathes against my cheek, his lips planting kisses along my chin to my ear as he slips back and forth. He's _obviously_ ready, but he's waiting for the final green light. "You're sure, yeah?"

I can't speak, but I nod and grip his shoulders. The warmth beneath my fingers excites me and frees my tongue; my breath transforms into pants and quick gasps. I plead, nearly hiccuping, "Jasper ..."

His hungry mouth nibbles my neck, soothing the small bites with tongue and the salve of soft lips. I feel his body shift against me, his hips pulling back and aligning himself with me. I tense for a moment as he presses forward, entering me partially. It's tight, a strange pressure. He groans, kissing along my neck and mumbling things I can't quite make out except for my name. I close my eyes and smile. I'm really thrilled, because I'd been expecting it to hurt a lot more.

Then, he thrusts forward.

The pain is sharp, immediate, and all too shocking. I shriek. My body goes rigid, my eyes fly open, and my nails cut into his back. I'm horrified most by the strangled cry. He immediately stills, his head snapping up so that he can find my face. As soon as I look into his stunned, alarmed blue eyes, my lids clamp shut. I can't look. I want to hide. My skin goes cold, but sweat beads all along my forehead.

"Alice?" His voice cracks loudly. He continues in a softer tone. "Are you—? Were you a ... virgin?"

I can't quite bring myself to speak over the deafening humiliation currently blaring through the loudspeakers in my head, so I simply nod once. He says nothing to this, but I feel him lift himself up on his arms, moving away from me. Damnable tears sneak through my lashes and run down my cheeks. He sighs.

The smooth cotton of his sheets suddenly feel like they're mocking me. I suck a stuttering breath in through my nose as the bed shifts. All my muscles are clenching with or without my permission, so when he pulls out of me, I whimper. I hate the sound.

The only comforts—the heat from his skin and the weight of his body—are gone. The bed bounces a little bit after his retreat, and I allow more tears to fall. Quiet sobs begin to wrack my chest. All I can think of is curling into a ball forever. _How ridiculous am I? How did I get here? How did I convince him to even get this far?_

Any belief in myself shatters as I hear a faucet turn on, the water running in the attached bathroom. _He's washing me off of him. I can't believe I let myself think...  
_  
My hands cover my eyes as the embarrassment crushes me. _How can I show my face? He'll tell his friends, who'll tell everyone they know, and then all of Forks High will know how desperate and sad I am._ As I cry, images of transferring to a new school for my senior year flash through my mind, only bringing tears faster.

I have no idea he's even in the room again until I feel warm, damp cloth between my legs. "You're bleeding a little." His voice is soft and gentle, much like his touch.

I cry harder, as though this is cause for shame. I know it's not, but emotionally, it's as good as a bullet list of your every dark secret printed on the front page of the New York Times. I'm mortified. I push his hands away and turn on my side, gripping sheets and pulling them over me, over my head. My breakdown continues, my body shaking slightly as I weep. I'm hoping for a little _Nightmare on Elm Street_ action where I am devoured by the mattress, never to be seen again. I could go for _not_ having to leave this room through the door and anyone seeing me. I'm going to have to leave somehow, though, and the thought petrifies me.

The bed dips behind me, and I feel him at my back. I don't bother trying to explain myself, but he doesn't ask. His body is soon flush with mine, cocooning me. His skin feels soothing, and for a moment, I'm really confused. The sheet is pulled from my face, exposing me to the air once again. His lips are brushing against the shell of my ear, and his long fingers softly collect the tears from my cheek.

He doesn't speak at all, but molds himself to me, wrapping his arms around me. His hand settles on my stomach, flat and warm against me. I sniffle a bit, feeling pathetically like a kid, but moments later, my tears cease, and a beautiful calm settles over me.

I can hear the music from downstairs, vibrations rumbling mildly through the floor and occasional shouts from a particularly drunk partygoer. His room is silent, otherwise, save his soft breaths as they sweep across my jaw. I soon find myself falling asleep, wrapped in Jasper and safety and ... love?

* * *

**A/N:** Jasper will take the reins next chap. It's not complete yet, but will be up soon!

Thanks to MaleficentKnits & Effbit for prereading/betafying. I FLOVE YOU BOTH.


	2. First Things Second

**Jasper**

Sun beats against the back of the Roman shades hanging on my windows, but a few rays break through at the sides, landing on my face. My arms are securely wrapped around Alice, and my nose is in her hair as my head rests on a shared pillow. Her breathing is even and slow, telling me she's still asleep. I take stock of the fact that neither of us have moved, wondering if I'd ever slept so soundly.

Reality dawns, and I remember everything that happened. A cacophony of questions batter themselves against the inside of my skull, making my head hurt. Or maybe that's the tequila. I wasn't significantly drunk last night, but sometimes your body doesn't care and decides to punish you anyway. That doesn't stop my train of thought, however.

I can't believe I rushed her. _Did I rush her? Didn't she want it as much as I did? _She'd seemed ready and sure. Why the fuck didn't I ask her if she'd had sex before? I hadn't stopped long enough to think about it. I don't remember her being in any sort of relationship with anyone, but that's not necessarily a precursor to sex. _Obviously._

_I am such an asshole._

There were signs of an apprehensiveness on her part, but then they would disappear, leaving me to wonder if I imagined it. Of course, in the midst of everything, I was not terribly inclined to get analytical. I was focused on her smile, they way she flirted with me, the feel of her skin beneath my hands. By the time I got her naked, every pass of her lips on mine was a threat to cumming before I even got the condom on.

But now, in the quiet alongside her, I see what I should have seen. I can recall every time she hesitated, every time her body tensed.

I know I wouldn't have taken her upstairs if she hadn't requested it. That didn't give me a right to expect sex, and I didn't. Not exactly. I just mean that as difficult as that may have been, I would have stopped. But when it came down to it, she didn't say no. She said yes. She _kissed_ yes. Moved yes. Touched and breathed yes. From the moment her hand slid behind my neck, asking me to meet her halfway for our first kiss, I was hers. Completely.

The feeling wasn't all that new to me.

I'd always known who she was. I just ... didn't realize I wanted to know so much more until recently. A couple of months ago, I was down in the art wing at school to pick up some signs for the senior rally. The main gallery was set up for a benefit auction that night, filled with student pieces that would be auctioned off. I didn't pay much attention until my eyes caught on a black and white photo: a self-portrait of Alice titled, "Kismet."

All the air left my lungs in a whoosh, and my heart seemed to beat unevenly. I sucked in a fast breath, the air burning as it hit my lungs.

It was like I was seeing her for the first time.

Her lips were slightly parted and her brow was slightly furrowed in concentration. Beams of sunlight crowned her, casting a shadow over her face, though a reflection gave her skin a luminescent glow, making her appear like the moon in a solar eclipse. Her arms extended forward, her hands reaching out of frame; for a split-second, I almost held out my hand. My fingers were twitching when Mrs. Cope cleared her throat behind me.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" she asked, innocently. "It was actually an accidental shot, Miss Cullen told me. She thought the timer wasn't working and the camera went off. Then, she decided it was meant to happen that way. Hence, 'Kismet.'"

I nodded and shrugged, trying to shake off the foreign feeling that cemented my feet to the floor. Mrs. Cope smiled knowingly, and I kind of wanted to punch her, even though I knew she was just seeing me for what I was: lovestruck.

Sheepishly, I headed past her and down to the work room where the posters were drying. After I'd delivered them to the student council room, I went back to the art wing and gave Mrs. Cope the thirty-seven dollars and eighteen cents in my wallet to buy me that picture at the auction. I promised to pay her back if the bidding went higher. She didn't say a thing aside from, "Sure thing, Mr. Whitlock."

Apparently, Alice didn't notice it hanging on the wall above my desk next to the bed. By the time we got to my room, I guess we were both too distracted to notice the details of our surroundings.

I don't know why I hadn't tried to approach her before last night. I think the intensity of what I was feeling freaked me out a little bit. I'd never felt anything like it for Maria, so it was a little overwhelming. It wasn't anything like I'd ever expected.

When I saw her dancing by herself last night, I was entranced. I knew that was it. I had to do _something_. Then she surprised me at every turn, and I just fell deeper, if that's possible.

But now, watching her sleep, I can't shake the guilt. I know I screwed up, and I'm desperate to fix it, to apologize for hurting her.

I gingerly drag my lips lightly along the skin of her shoulder until I reach the juncture of her neck, pressing a kiss there. She stirs, emitting a tiny whine in protest of waking up. She bunches her shoulders and straightens her legs, feeling out her body before freezing.

"Not a dream," she murmurs.

I can't help but chuckle. She quickly turns around to face me, holding the sheet at her chest.

"Um ... I should, uh ... I should go," she says, her voice small and awkward. Her eyes will not meet mine.

My stomach flips as I lift her face with my hand. "Not yet," I tell her. "Please don't go yet."

Her eyes frame the fear and doubt obviously swimming around in her head. "But I ... I don't ..."

I avoid trying to imagine what she's thinking and kiss her lips. "Why didn't you say something, Alice?" I ask, resting my forehead against hers.

She closes her eyes. "I didn't want to miss the opportunity."

"The opp— ..." I blink several times, unable to figure out what she means. I can feel her pulling away from me, ashamed and embarrassed all over again. A sharp jolt of pain courses through me as it occurs to me that she might not want what I want. My heart tries to leap out of my chest and find a cliff to jump from. "So ... what? Did you just want to get your first time over with?"

I immediately regret the harsh and accusatory tone as I push back to get a better look at her face.

Her eyes go wide, her head shaking back and forth frantically. Offense and fear squeaks from her voice. "NO! How can you—? I wanted _you_, Jasper. I just—"

She cut herself off, looking away again. Before I can question her again, she unleashes a stream of confessions. "I've been in love with you so long, I thought this might be my last chance to have any part of you, and I know you wouldn't want anything serious, since you're going to New York or Texas or someplace far away from here—and me—and all I wanted for my birthday was to give myself to you, because I didn't want anyone else but you to be first, even though I don't know that I'll ever want anyone else and—"

"You're in lo—wait, what? Your birthday? It was _yesterday_?"

_I am SUCH. AN. ASSHOLE._

Edward mentioned something about getting his dad's old Volvo for his birthday, but like a total dimwit, I didn't connect that it was _her_ birthday, too.

"Jesus Christ, Alice ..." I pinch my eyes shut and shake my head. When I open them, she's sitting up, nodding with a deep-set frown.

"I know, I'm sorry. I'll go." I hear a sniffle as she darts away to get out of the bed.

Panic pits itself in my gut and my chest tightens as I realize I've fucked up yet again. I try to react to everything at once, and end up saying nothing productive at all.

I reach for her, my grip missing her by a fraction of an inch. She's clutching the sheet as she pulls it off the bed, exposing me as she wraps it around herself. It doesn't matter much, as she's looking for her clothes. I slide off the mattress, grabbing my jeans and slipping into them and fastening a couple of the buttons. When she gets around to my side of the bed, she spots her dress on the floor just in front of my desk. Grabbing it quickly, she stands up straight, her eyes brushing over the desk. She stills, staring at the wall. I know she sees her photo.

"How ...? That's my ..." Her face is pure confusion, sprinkled with disbelief as she points at her photograph. "Why do you have it?"

I sigh, looking at the picture. "Because it's beautiful. It's so ... _you_, and I wanted it. I wanted _you_, however I could get you." I huff, irritated that my explanation sounds ridiculous. I run my fingers through my hair, but they get stuck in my snarled curls. I hoped it would be a sweeter moment, but the truth came rushing out anyway. "Because ... it was what made me realize I was in love with you."

She stares at me for almost a full minute before I finally break, stepping forward to grab her hands. She drops the dress and follows me. I sit down on the bed and pull her toward me so she's standing between my legs. My arms slide around her waist, anchoring her to me. The tightness in my chest eases.

"I love you, Alice Brandon Cullen," I confess again, looking into her eyes. "Even if you have a boy's middle name, I love you."

She snorts, which tells me I'm absolutely whipped, because I find it so remarkably adorable, it's beyond sexy.

"It's my mother's maiden name, jerk," she chides me, fighting a smirk.

I tip a smile, my hands drifting up her back so I can keep her close. "I'm so, so sorry I messed this up, Alice. I didn't mean to rush you, and most of all, I hate that I hurt you—"

"Jasper," she says, her tone admonishing but soft. "How could you think _you_ messed up? You didn't rush me. I came here with the exact intention of seducing you, somehow."

"Somehow?" I interject with a laugh. "It's pretty easy to seduce the willing, baby."

A blush rises in her cheeks at the endearment. "And you didn't hurt me—not on purpose. I mean, I _knew_ it was going to hurt. I just thought I could handle it without you knowing, but the pain was a bit different than I expected. I was embarrassed."

"Why would you be embarrassed?"

She sighs, murmuring, "I love you, Jasper. I felt ridiculously self-conscious and," she pauses, fidgeting in my grasp, "humiliated."

"You did nothing wrong, Alice." My stomach twists at the idea of her feeling humiliated because of this. "I should have asked."

"No," she snaps before casting her eyes down. "You were perfect. I should have told you, but I didn't want you to change your mind."

Cupping her face with my palm, I wait until she looks at me before speaking. "I don't think I could ever change my mind about you."

"I thought if I wasn't _experienced_ or really confident, you'd think I wasn't worth your time."

I frown. "Did you really think so little of me?"

She looks sad for a moment. "No," she whispers, shaking her head. "I guess that I thought that little of _me_."

"Why, baby?"

She blushes again. "You meant—you _mean_," she corrects herself, "that much to me."

Staring into her eyes, I see a woman and a little girl, and I know how easily I could hurt her. A rope tightens around my heart, and I have a hard timing breathing. I want so much to make her understand, but I struggle to find the right words. "You are the most amazing woman I've ever met. You're so fucking talented and creative, I'll be damned if you don't take over the world with your photography or sculptures or ... whatever the fuck you choose to do it with. You're smart, genuine, honest, loyal ... not to mention you're the most gorgeous girl on the planet. Darlin', I want you to see that."

"I promise I'll try." A smile sneaks across her face, and she covers it with her hand. "Can I ...? Can I brush my teeth?"

I laugh and cover my own mouth, muffling my words. "Is it that bad?"

She shakes her head, giggling, and backs away slightly. "No, no—mine. My mouth tastes _so _nasty."

"I didn't notice anything."

"Liar."

I chuckle, standing. I pick my shirt up off the floor and slip it around her shoulders. She slides her arms into the sleeves, dropping the sheet. I work my fingers down the buttons to close the shirt, trying to ignore my, uh, _rising_ desire to leave it open—or more preferably, off. I feel her eyes on my face the entire time.

_My pants would go up in flames if I said I didn't want to have sex right now. I'm working on not being an asshole, though._

After getting some buttons fastened so it covers enough (too much), I look up to find her eyes. The corners crinkle when she smiles, and I can't help it when my fingers seek her face, smoothing along her chin. I have the strongest urge to kiss her, so I do, relishing the feel of her soft lips. She hums, her hands wrapping around my wrists. I stifle a groan, but it rumbles in my chest, at which point, she places a palm above my heart. I suddenly remember her doing that last night, her hand just there. I put a hand over hers, holding them both there.

Reluctantly, I watch her to pull back; she's smiling and bouncing on her toes. Slipping my hand down her arm, I loosely clutch her hand as I lead her into the bathroom. I don't let go as I open the medicine cabinet and grab an extra toothbrush. Handing it to her, I take my own from the cup on the sink.

We wordlessly go through an amusingly "old married couple" routine of brushing our teeth side by side. I can't help but to imagine us in fifty years, taking out our dentures to soak overnight. I grin madly at her, trying not to choke as I stifle a laugh at the thought. She giggles, and the toothpaste bubbles overflow down her chin. Bending forward, she spits into the sink.

"Dammit," she mutters before trying to lick at her chin.

I lose the battle and laugh, spitting foam all over the mirror. She stands up, looks at the splatter, and cracks up.

"It's hot, right?" I joke, after rinsing my mouth and wiping my face with a towel. Playfully, I cover her face with the towel, wiping her chin.

She pulls the towel away, a huge grin on her face. "You have no idea."

I don't even have time to contemplate the fact that I'm semi-hard again just from the tone of her voice. She jumps and wraps herself around me, locking her ankles at my back.

"Now I can kiss you. _Really_ kiss you," she breathes before planting an open-mouthed kiss on me.

I grip her by the ass, trying to be careful not to dig my fingers in too hard. Her tongue licks along my upper lip before diving in to dance with mine. My equilibrium is jarred, my body overwhelmed by her, so I stumble back to lean against the sink. I'm about to carry us back to the bed for some serious makeout time, but she regrettably disengages.

"Holy hell, I have to pee," she announces, breathing heavily.

I realize suddenly that I really need to do the same. "I'll leave you to it. I'ma head downstairs and survey the wreckage while I'm at it. Why don't you meet me down there, and I'll make us some breakfast."

"I'm not hungry for food yet," she says, cinching her legs tighter around my waist.

"Liar," I tell her.

"Jasper," she whines. "I want to make it up to you ..."

"For what?" My voice gets a little loud. "You owe me nothing."

"I owe you an orgasm," she whispers in my ear.

_Fuck me..._

"Alice," I start, trying to assuage her guilt, "don't take responsibility for me not getting off. It's not—"

"It would make _me_ feel better," she interjects, before starting to giggle again. "I think it'd make me feel pretty awesome, actually."

I shake my head as she rubs the tip of her nose along my cheek. "You are a little bit evil, you know that?" I feel her nod.

"We could, um, take a shower?" she suggests, hopefully.

I try to push away the feeling that she thinks of last night as a failure and she's aiming to fix it. "Alice," I begin, sighing, and I see a light in her eyes extinguish. "You're not trying to erase last night, are you, baby?"

She pulls back, looking at me. She's still for a moment as she ponders the question. "No. No, I wouldn't say that," she says carefully. "I don't want it to end there, that's all. I want ... _more_."

Peering through her eyelashes, she looks up at me, and I realize quickly it's not going to take much for her to wear me down, unfortunately. Or, let's be honest, fortunately. "Uh ..."

She moves in closer to kiss behind my ear and move along my jaw. Her tongue darts out and licks my earlobe before she nibbles on it. Her breath is hot on my neck. "Please?"

_Shit._ "Alice, we don't have to do this now." It's not that I'm unaffected—far from it, but I'm determined to make sure she's not doing this to prove something to me, or herself. "We've got plenty of time—"

"Jasper," she whispers, looking down. I notice her breaths are now shallow and quick, though she's trying not to sound dejected. "Do you want me? Or are you trying to let me down easy?"

I tip her face with my hand, and look at her incredulously. "Why on earth would you say that?"

"You're trying really hard to turn down sex," she says with a quirked brow.

"I'm trying to _not_ be an asshole, here," I snap, a little defensively. I lower my hackles and soften my tone. "And I'm not turning you down ... I'm just—"

"Making sure?" she asks, kissing the corner of my mouth. I shiver. _Jesus, Whitlock, who's the girl here?_

Nodding, I ask my last questions. "Are you sore at all? How do you feel?"

Instead of answering me, she kisses me softly and slowly. She knows she's got me. Well, that and the erection might be a dead giveaway, too.

"My parents' bathroom has a huge jacuzzi tub in it. I could—"

"Go fill it up," she says quickly, jumping down and pushing me out of the bathroom.

I stare at the closed door for a moment, feeling a little dazed. I don't waste too much time, rushing down the hall and starting the bath. Drizzling some of the lavender bath oil under the tap—I figure being a girly-girl, Alice would like that shit—I remember that I haven't taken a bath since grade school.

_But then again, _I remind myself. _You never had a hot, naked girl to share a bath with. _Touché.

I take care of business just in time for Alice to find me, and the tub is nearly full. She walks over to me, almost timidly, and I wonder if she's changing her mind.

"You are far too dressed," she tells me, a smirk carving a dimple in her cheek.

Sitting on the edge of the tub, I feel a Joker-smile plaster itself across my face. "You're not so naked, yourself, beautiful."

She stands between my legs and reaches for the topmost fastened button. Without breaking eye contact, I reach back and turn off the faucet. The shirt falls open inviting my hands to slide around her waist, dropping lower to cup her bottom. I squeeze a little and run my hands up and over the cheeks a few times. She snickers.

"Have I told you how fantastic your ass is?" _It is. Really. I love her ass._

"HA!" Her laugh echoes off the tile before she slaps a hand over her mouth. She takes a breath, cocking her head to one side. "You like my ass, huh?"

I pull her forward so my lips can reach hers. Before connecting them, I say softly, "Yes."

I feel her hand at my waist, grazing the still-unfastened top button, and it occurs to me that she's not trying to prove a thing. She's not forcing herself past any fears, but she is emboldened now that we've gotten everything we needed to say out in the open. We've declared ourselves, possibly like idiots, and possibly in the reverse order that it should've been, but there are no more roadblocks. We can discover what it means to be _us_.

I feel a cool thrill zip through me at the thought and immediately hear Emmett in my head: _Dude, you are such a fucking girl. I'ma dress you up like a pretty, pretty princess and call you Jasmine._

It's amazing I call that prick one of my best friends.

Shoving Emmett out of my mind is easy; my fuckhot girlfriend has her hand in my jeans and is wrapping her fingers around me.

"Wow," she breathes. _Yeah, nothing sounds better to a guy than when his girl makes a comment like that in reference to his dick. And yeah, I'm smiling like a motherfucking moron._

My head drops forward and I make some sort of grunting sound as she slowly slides her hand up and down. Sucking in a breath, I have to stop her before I cum right then and there. "Alice," I pant, "if I cum in these jeans, I'm going to have to do laundry. And I don't want to do laundry."

She throws her head back and laughs. "Momma not here to wash your delicates?"

I stand up, pulling her hand away, and scrambling out of my jeans. She's looking me over and smiling. I turn and get in the tub, glad that it's not too hot, because I really don't want to scald my dick. Leaning back against the end, I raise an eyebrow at her. "You gonna join me or what?"

Dropping her shoulders back, my shirt slips off and hits the floor soundlessly. I can't help it; I stare. I ogle. I'm eyefucking the shit out of her. She catches my eyes and drops a wink on me. "Goddamn," I mutter in appreciation of this gorgeous girl.

I hold my hand up to give her leverage as she steps in. She leans back as she sits on the opposite end. Grinning, I lean forward and crawl through the sweet-smelling water toward her, her eyes widening as she holds my gaze. She's easily getting as worked up as I am, the air is thick with the best kind of tension—as it's been since she walked in here.

My hands anchor on the outside of each hip, supporting me as I hover over her. She rests her head on the lip of the tub. Shifting my weight onto my right hand, I lift my left and trail it lightly up her hip, past her waist, and over her breast. She gasps, capping it with a small, "Oh!"

My hand continues up her chest and neck until I have her chin resting in my palm. Holding her face, I close my eyes as our lips connect. Kissing her hasn't lost its appeal in the least, but I try to focus as I press the button to the jets. Bubbles begin to swirl and whirr, and she jumps, biting my lip.

"Oh, sorry!" she exclaims, looking a little guilty. Her fingers trace my lip, looking for blood.

I would respond, but she's sucking on my bottom lip in penance. Both hands back in the water, balancing my weight, I feel the water move, her legs parting as she pushes her body toward me. I realize suddenly I didn't grab a condom.

"Fuck!" I hiss.

"What?" She sounds startled, and shrinks back a bit.

I peck her lips quickly. "I didn't grab a condom, though I don't know how well they do in water. I think it'd be okay, but I'm not going to ask you to—"

"We don't need it," she says, planting a soft kiss on my chin. "I started birth control when I was fifteen."

I pull back to examine her face. "Why so—"

She huffs, irritated, and maybe a little embarrassed, if the red cheeks means anything. "I had really bad cramps and it helped, okay? You wanna talk periods now?"

I feel like a jerk, but I smile anyway, shaking my head. "I'm sorry, I just—"

"Shut up, Jasper," she orders, her smile returning.

I nod, focusing on her face and press my mouth to hers, probing her with my tongue. We rapidly pick up where we'd paused. I scoop my arm beneath her ass as I sit back. Her skin feels like silk in the water as I float her toward me and position her over me, coaxing her into a straddling position. Her whimpers and pants incite me, and I pull her down against me.

Kissing down her neck, I feel her arms slip around me, gripping me as best she can with wet hands. Hips start to rock, and I'm not sure if it's hers or mine. There's movement and friction, but it's slippery and not nearly satisfying enough. After a few minutes, the kissing has stolen our breath, and we rest foreheads together and breathe into each others' mouths as the rest of our bodies keep moving, building the need.

I want to ask her again. The words are rolling forward on my tongue, but her hand ghosts down my chest and her knees press harder into the porcelain. I don't need to ask. She doesn't want me to ask.

Lifting her hips, I help her forward and bring us into alignment. I look up to find her eyes; they're soft but locked on me. Holding her hips firmly, I pull her down infinitesimally so that I can feel myself touch her right where I need to be.

The power is hers now.

I watch her eyes close, drinking her in until her face is softly resting against my cheek, her breath hushed and pleading by my ear. My arms find a secure embrace as she sinks down and envelopes me, deliberately and completely. It feels so fucking good, but her wince doesn't go unnoticed. I remain still, waiting for her to adjust, to lead me.

"You okay?" My voice is low, rumbling in my chest, and I hope I can last long enough to get her off before me. I'm determined to make her feel good, to let her know how much she means to me, and if I have anything to say about it, one hell of an orgasm.

She whimpers, but it's actually more of a whine, like a wordless request to move my ass. Literally. Her hips thrust forward a little, and she gasps, like the sensation wasn't exactly what she was expecting.

Pulling out gradually, I begin to move somewhat lazily, carefully thrusting forward again. I direct her hips with my hands so she can find the angle that feels best. Once she gets a rhythm going, we rock together in earnest, the pace unhurried at first. As it starts to speed up a bit, her fingers thread around my ears, holding my face as she kisses me hard, sucking on my lips like candy. Hums and groans, moans and breaths, we pitch and sway together, and it's everything sex never was before.

My body is alight, every nerve-ending awake and on fire, and it's never felt so good to be burned.

I thought I'd loved Maria, but when I ended it last year, I saw how fucking deluded I was, how disconnected I was. While I was certainly physically attracted to her, sex left a lot to be desired, even though I didn't realize it at the time.

Right now, I knew exactly what I was missing. Real love.

_Emmett is sloppily supergluing rhinestones and ruffles on my princess costume right now._

I smile and let the fleeting, ridiculous thought go as all the muscles in my body contract and release in a tightening loop. I'm getting really fucking close, and though her breath is fast, her moans uneven, I'm not sure she's even near the edge.

She starts to grind a little, pushing her hips down harder. "Oh ... oh, my God ... Jasper, I ... I think ..." She gasps and drops her head forward on my shoulder. A low, throaty moan tumbles out, and she attaches her lips to my neck. The suction gets tighter, and I wonder if she's purposefully trying to mark me.

We're both thrusting harder, and faster, and now that I know she's close, I'm held back by one tiny, fraying thread. I hold her close to me with a hand on her lower back as I wriggle my other hand between us, my thumb swirling and coaxing her manually. It takes less than thirty seconds before she releases her hickey-tactic and bites down. Hard.

I never thought that would necessarily appeal to me, but when I cum almost immediately? I realize I might just like it. At least, a little bit. Then again, maybe it's just her. She does crazy things to me. Literally, I guess. And I love it.

I love _her_.

When I return to my body, I feel her tongue and lips soothing the spot where she bit. I also realize she's humming happily.

"Holy shit, Alice," I say, my breathing still slowing. "That was ... fucking incredible."

Lifting her head, she simply kisses me. "I love you," she murmurs against my lips.

"I love you, baby."

"I gave you a hickey," she tells me. "And I—"

"Left a bite mark? Yeah, I figured," I said, a laugh in my voice. "Did you bite an 'AC' in there? To brand me?"

She's overtaken by giggles, a little bit drunk on the afterglow. And for the record? I thought afterglow was bullshit, but I'm looking at her and ... well, I see a light around her. Maybe I just need more oxygen, I can't be sure.

"No," she says finally. "You felt so good and you smelled so good and tasted ... sorry, I'm babbling."

I smile, feeling it radiate the warmth and relaxation through my entire body. Kissing and caressing, we spend a few minutes of quiet, turning the jets off to listen to the our lips and breath mingle with the echo of water slapping lightly against the edge of the tub.

The feeling of hunger strikes me, and I'm sure she's got to be starving. I lift her up and move to get out of the water. We step out one at a time and wrap each other with towels. Her smile is gargantuan as she rests her cheek on my chest.

"Hungry, darlin'?" I ask. "I can make us some breakfast."

"Lunch," she snarks, pointing to the clock that is ticking past 12:48 PM.

"It's Saturday, baby," I tell her. "That _is_ breakfast time."

She rolls her eyes, but she still looks incandescent.

"Whatever," I concede. "FOOD."

She nods, and I drop the towel and yank my jeans back on. She picks up the shirt and flits off to my room.

I head downstairs, stopping at the bathroom at the foot of the stairs, noting the door's nearly shut. When I peer inside, Eric Yorkie is curled around the toilet. I send up a silent prayer of thanks that the room isn't painted in puke. Laughing to myself, I kick him in the ass.

"Yorkie! The fuck out my house, dude. Party ended, like, last week," I tease. "Your mom called. She said all your shit's on the front lawn."

His eyes roll around in their sockets as he pushes himself up against the wall. "Jesus, Whitlock. That party was OFF THE HOOK, man."

I hold out a hand and help him up. "Yeah, no one says that anymore, Eric, but uh, thanks. Don't trip over the Stanleys' pavers walking home this time, yeah?"

He nods and throws me a made-up gang sign. "Word."

Continuing further into the house, I find a few people strewn about the living room amidst the debris of plastic cups and a couple of overturned chip bowls. I rustle them awake, and they quickly gather themselves to leave, tossing me thanks as they stumble out.

Overall, the mess is not bad at all, surprisingly enough, though I haven't checked the deck yet. People like to barf out there.

I round into the front room and stop dead in my tracks. Edward and Bella are tucked into each other, sleeping on the couch. A shit-eating grin curls across my face. Apparently, it went well after I shoved Edward in her direction last night. I thoroughly enjoy it when I smack Edward in the face to wake him up. He startles and gasps, shocking Bella awake. The two sit up together, looking hilariously disoriented.

"Morning, kids!" I exclaim. "Or, afternoon, technically."

Bella looks at her watch and groans. "Oh, shit. I am so fucking grounded!"

Edward's eyes go wide. "Fuck! I'm sorry, Bella. I didn't mean to fall asleep..."

I snort, walking past them into the kitchen. "Good luck with that one, guys," I say over my shoulder. They go back and forth for a few minutes: Edward offers to go to her house with her to explain to Chief Swan, Bella reminds him how he likes to clean his guns on the weekend.

Digging into the refrigerator, I pull out some eggs and bacon, decidedly hungry. I hear a soft "Oh!" announce Alice's presence downstairs. She must have come face to face with her best friend and twin.

"Well hey, Twinward," she chirps happily, and I can't help but to smile at the joy in her voice. "Get a last-minute birthday present?"

"Alice!" Bella hisses. "Nothing _happened_! Guess I can't say the same about _you_, though."

I freeze, waiting to hear Alice's response.

"Nope!" she proclaims, no hint of defense or shame in her tone. I let out a shuddering breath of relief. "Hi."

I spin to see Alice hovering in the doorway of the kitchen. Involuntarily, I scan her head to toe; she's still wearing my button-up, having fastened a few more buttons and rolled up the sleeves. It's quite long on her, so it covers her to almost mid-thigh. I can't help but to grin. "Hi."

Setting the ingredients on the counter, I walk over to pick her up, walk back, and set her on the granite next to the food. She squeaks at the cold on her legs, but it dissolves as I run my hands up her thighs, my fingers sliding underneath the hem of the shirt. I groan as I realize she didn't put her panties back on. "Fuck, Alice," I hiss. "Why would you do that to me? Did you _not_ just get laid?"

She teasingly rubs her nose along mine, smiling as if holding back a giggle. I mirror her, but move in the rest of the way, brushing the warmth of her lips with my own. Shoving forward and resting her arms on my shoulders, she energetically throws herself into the kiss until we hear a throat clear behind us.

Stilling, we turn only our faces toward the noise to see Edward and Bella staring at us.

"Uh, I was gonna ask if Alice wanted a ride home," Edward says.

"I'll take her home after we eat," I offer quickly.

Bella leans against Edward's shoulder as she chimes in. "Alice, um, I don't mean to drag you away or anything, but it actually might help if you come with and tell Charlie we just fell asleep here or something. I really don't want him to kill Edward, because if you don't come with me, _he_ will," Bella pleads, jerking a thumb at Edward, "and you _know_ my dad might just go apeshit."

I turn to look at Alice, who's smile has turned upside down. "You should probably go, beautiful," I tell her quietly. "If Bella gets busted, it may boomerang and bite you in the ass."

The crease in her forehead deepens. "I ..." Her eyes dart to Edward and Bella, her words obviously getting caught in her throat.

"Give us a minute?" I ask, looking at our witnesses. They look at each other with knowing looks and turn.

"Ali, I'll be outside, 'kay?" Bella calls as they head to the door.

"Later, J," Edward says.

I focus on Alice once they're gone. "What, baby?" I ask softly.

"I thought ... I was hoping we ..." She keeps stopping, and I'm wondering what got her so shy.

"You can say anything to me," I remind her.

She chews on her lip for a second longer before blurting it out. "I wanted to spend a little more time in bed with you," she whispers from beneath a massive blush.

I chuckle, kissing her because I can't stand a second longer without doing so. "God, I'd like that. A lot. 'Cause I'm pretty sure after breakfast, I'm gonna pass out again and having you next to me would be—"

She interrupts me with a loud hum. I kiss her again, deepening it to try to express how much I want her. Again. And again. And—well, yeah, you get the picture. She moans into my mouth and it wakes me up a bit. "Oookay." I heave in a breath. "You better get, before I have you on the counter, threat of witnesses be damned."

This makes her laugh and bounce a little. I lift her off the counter and set her on her feet. She takes off running up the stairs, and I follow slowly behind, waiting at the bottom for her to return. She trots down, redressed in her strapless yellow thing, picking the scarf off the railing. She's barefoot, though, and I look around for those tall wedgie things she had on. She finds them first, shoving her feet into them and then walking over to me, as I stand by the sofa.

"I love you," I remind her as she enters my embrace. She presses her body against me, her cheek on my chest.

"I love you," she replies. She looks up and raises her eyebrows. "Call me?"

I nod before kissing her, allowing my lips to linger. "Tonight."

She smiles and runs to the door.

"Alice?" I call after her. She stops, spinning in the open doorway to face me. "Happy Birthday, baby."

Her face lights up with the joy that is pure Alice.

After I watch the cars leave, I turn to look at the mess that seemed like "no problem" twenty minutes ago. Scowling, I see it a hell of a lot differently now.

"Fuck."

I decide to inspect the deck because I'm worried that's gonna be a nightmare. Even with my post-coital bliss haze, I'm sure I'm not gonna like it. Before I get to the door, I look down, so I don't immediately see whatever it is I'm going to see once I open the sliding door.

I push at the handle and listen to the rumble of the heavy door in the groove. There's a distinct smell; I cringe. Opening my eyes, I see Emmett in the lounge recliner, a mopping bucket on his stomach. It's ... not empty.

"You're fucking kidding me, McCarty," I groan, really fucking loud, hoping he has a massive headache. "You're flushing that shit. And rinsing out the bucket."

He peeks an eye at me, a shit-eating grin spreading over his face. "'Sup, Jasmine?"

I take an opportunity to look around, pleasantly surprised to find the deck in otherwise good condition. "You stick around to help me clean up, asswipe?"

Shifting the bucket so he can stand without spilling, he shrugs. "Sure, I can do that."

I watch him and feel an inordinate amount of smugness rolling off him. "What?" I ask, knowing he's just waiting for his moment.

He turns and eyes me, scoping me head to toe. "Have a nice bath this morning, Princess?"

My eyes go wide, and I glare at him. "The ... what?" I don't know what to say, as I know he heard us.

"That was one hell of a beautiful echo."

For some reason, as much as I feel a little overexposed for a moment, I can't be mad. I start grinning like a Cheshire cat and jump my eyebrows. "You have no idea."

* * *

**A/N**: Thanks all for reading! I hope you enjoyed. :) Now my brain can unlock, and I can get back to Maelström and Grim FaerieTale...

Mal and MTK, thanks for your prereaderfication and encouragement.


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